


another drista fic for the pile

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Gen, Temporary Character Death, The Festival, Trauma, but i also believe that shes a straightup child and all the fics of her being bamf ignore that, i believe in drista supremacy, respawning is a thing it just takes a while, the children fought in wars of course they arent fine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27395287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: On the day of the festival, Tommy takes drastic measures to stop Tubbo's execution. He calls in Drista.
Relationships: Drista & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, and shipping irl people is gross even when they arent, because theyre children, its all platonic - Relationship, on that note have some platonic relationships
Comments: 7
Kudos: 318
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

It was the day of the festival, and Tommy had to stop Wilbur. But he didn’t  _ know _ where Wilbur was, and Schlatt was making a speech, so he’d ducked out from his cover for just a moment to take a glance at the goat hybrid.

“Welcome,” Schlatt declared, “To the execution!” He yelled the last part, voice raising in both volume and anger. “Of a traitor, to this fine country!

He twisted suddenly, pointing his finger at Tubbo.

Tubbo, who was in a box.

_ Fuck _ .

Tubbo wouldn’t permanently die, but it would still be  _ painful _ , and it might take him a couple weeks to respawn if Schlatt executed him with particular bias.

Which he would.

Tommy felt panic shoot through him. What  _ could _ he do?

_ He _ couldn't do anything.

Someone he  _ knew _ , on the other hand…

He pulled out his comn, breathing in sharply through his nose as he flicked through the numbers on his contacts list, until at last he reached one that he hadn’t messaged in a while.

**_TommyInnit:_ ** _ listen i know we havent really talked but i could realy use some help rn _

There was a brief moment where he was afraid she wouldn’t answer, but a response popped up quickly.

**_Drista:_ ** _ omw _

He glanced up at the stage again, freezing when he saw the scene before him. Technoblade, standing awkwardly, crossbow armed and aimed at Tubbo.

He was so caught up in the horror of the moment that he almost missed his comn buzzing with a notification.

**_Drista_ ** _ has joined the world. _

  
  
  


It all happened so quickly after that, honestly. Drista, still wearing the same mask, green hoodie, and armour as her brother but still clearly a different person, had appeared, and then several things happened in rapid succession.

First, she’d taken stock of the situation, looking around. It was at the same time that most people checked their comns in confusion- a notification was only sent out when someone joined the world for the first time ever, and there hadn’t been a plan of someone new joining.

Then, Drista had disappeared, reappearing in several places in quick succession. She slashed and jabbed and ducked and weaved, and honestly Tommy was both impressed and intimidated. She stopped before Technoblade, shot him a two-finger salute, and then plunged her netherite sword into his chest.

At that point, most of the people at the festival were dead, vanished in a puff of smoke. Jschlatt, Quackity, and Fundy had been among the first gone, but they were soon followed by Karl, and those that had survived at that point scattered and ran.

“Do you have a pickaxe?” Drista called out to Tommy. She was investigating the yellow concrete that was boxing Tubbo in. Tubbo himself was staring at her with open suspicion, leaning against the other side of the concrete.

Tubbo perked up when he saw Tommy, though. “Tommy!” He called.

From there, it was a blur- getting Tubbo free, stalling for time with Wilbur while Drista removed the TNT, hurrying back to Pogtopia. 

The image of Drista, even more a child than him, dodging and weaving through the crowd as she spilled blood, lingered in his head.


	2. Chapter 2

They weren’t born into bloodshed.

That sounds like an exception, as if everyone else but them was, but nobody was born into bloodshed.

They were born into broken worlds, yes- and as they grew, there was much violence, and by the time they were teens there was bloodshed.

But they weren’t born into it.

Drista grew up with Dream as an older brother. She grew up with lessons on fighting, on how to duck and dodge and weave, and when she asked her brother why she had to learn it, he said that he hoped she would never need it but better safe than sorry.

When she was 13, Dream started up a new server.

She stayed behind, in the server they’d grown up in, and tried not to be bitter. She could still access other servers, of course, but it wasn’t the same as a whole new one. It wasn’t the same, but when she asked him why she couldn’t join he said something about ‘safety’ and ‘not starting wars’.

She distracted herself with PvP- she wasn’t as good as her brother, and she couldn’t be expected to be, at 13, but she was still good enough to win a fair amount of the time. She didn’t tell Dream- he’d mentioned before that he didn’t want her PvPing, so she kept quiet.

She met Tommy half a year later, when they were both on the same public server and he recognized the mask she and Dream both had. People who had admired Dream had used imitations, yes, but she had the real deal, made of the same ceramic and paint. It even had the same unbreaking 3 enchantment. 

Drista wasn’t born into bloodshed, but she clawed her way into it.

(If only it was that easy to leave.)

Tommy grew up with his mother, in a public server. Tubbo was basically his only friend until he met the rest of the quickly-dubbed ‘Sleepy Bois Incorporated’, and even then Tubbo was his only friend his age.

Tommy was 16 when he first became a war general, in the rebellion against Dream.

He was 16 the first time he died, shot by Dream in a duel. 

(If he thought about it too hard, he could remember the feeling of the arrow piercing his shoulder, the blood running down, the thick fabric of his uniform weighing him down in the water.)

He was 16 the first time he was betrayed.

(He could still remember the feeling of poison, coursing through his veins and billowing in his lungs. He could still remember the feeling of a blade in his back, and he didn’t even know who’s blade it was, but it still killed him.)

He was 16 the first time he was exploded, the first time he watched his country fall.

(The feeling of arcing through the air, knowing he would die when he hit the ground, is one that stayed with him always. The smell of smoke and ash clogged his throat, and when he respawned the ground was ravaged by fire.)

He was 16.

Tubbo grew up alongside Tommy, and when Tommy went onto a new server, he went with him.

He wasn’t expecting the war(s).

(He remembered when his house burnt down- flames, reaching and grabbing everything in sight, smoke billowing up and choking out the air around it, embers sparking and spreading and almost burning down the forest from several blocks away.)

There were his bees- Spins and Spunz- for a while, but they didn’t last.

(He remembered when Tommy hit Spins, trying to mess with Tubbo, and instead Spins stung him and died.)

(He remembered when Punz gave him Spunz, and things looked alright.)

(He remembered Sapnap killing Spunz.)

Then there was the whole double-agent thing.

(He remembered late nights, spent pouring over maps and plans and charts, memorizing the information to bring it back to Tommy and Wilbur. He remembered silently sneaking out, breath catching in fear at the slightest sound. He remembered lying to Schlatt’s face to escape.)

Then, the box-

(He remembers the box, with it’s yellow concrete walls. The box, with Techno aiming a crossbow at his face.)

Tubbo remembers.

(Wilbur looks at them and thinks the war is fought by traitors.)

(Dream looks at them and thinks the war is fought by fools.)

(Techno looks at them and thinks the war is fought by weirdos with nothing better to do.)

(The war is fought by traitors and fools and weirdos and cowards-)

(The war is fought by children.)


	3. Chapter 3

Drista leaned against the stone wall of Pogtopia, watching the fire. The fireplaces inside the walls were lit, and her mask gleamed in the wavering light.

It had been a day since the Festival- as Tommy had explained it to be- and none of the others had respawned yet. Luckily, that meant there was nobody alive who’d seen her close enough to snitch her out to Dream.

It wasn’t that she didn’t  _ like _ her brother- he was her brother, after all. It was just that if he knew she was on the server, he would make her leave- she was lucky that he was away when she joined in the first place.

“So,” Tubbo’s voice made her look up. He was watching her from the other side of the- admittedly not very wide- room. “I know that Tommy trusts you, but I still want to know who you are. The whole Dream-gettup doesn’t instill me with confidence.”

Drista stared at him. After a tense moment, she shrugged, relaxed. “I’m Drista,” She said, as if that was all that she needed to say. She went back to watching the fire.

Tubbo waited for her to continue, then spoke up indignantly when she didn’t. “That’s it? Okay, you’re Drista, but I still wanna know why you look like Dream. And what was that back at the Festival?”

Drista shrugged. “Does it matter? I saved your life. And the life of- what was his name?” She pretended to have forgotten, then snapped her fingers as if she’d remembered. “William Ash? Yeah, I think that was his name.”

Tubbo watched her. She went back to watching the fire.

Wilbur woke up.

That wasn’t unusual.

What  _ was _ unusual was the thick, rough blanket he was wrapped in. His head was fuzzy, as if he was in the middle of a respawn.

But he hadn’t-

He hadn’t died, had he?

(His eyelids and limbs all felt heavy, and even the thought of movement exhausted him. There were noises in his ears, indistinguishable from each other apart from the low murmuring of voices.)

He didn’t remember dying.

(He wonders if this is what dying feels like. He knows it's not, but it doesn't stop him from wondering.)

Tommy was leaning against the wall, watching Wilbur- who was still asleep, and hadn’t woken up since the festival.

“So,” Drista’s voice made him snap his head up. She was watching both him and Wilbur, mask still secured over her face but not carrying her weapons. “What’s, like, his  _ deal _ ?”

“What do you mean?” There were a lot of things she could be referring to- and honestly that was kind of sad.

Drista shrugged. “Like, why was he trying to blow up that festival? Why are you with him? Why are you living in a cave?” She gestured around them at the last one.

Tommy huffed a breath, considered it for a moment, and then sighed. “Yeah, those are fair questions, I guess.” He slumped against the wall. “It all started… I dunno, a year ago? Year and a half?” He ran a hand through his hair. It was greasy, and the smell of sweat clung to it. Living in a cave for however many months didn’t give many opportunities to shower.

“We wanted a place of our own,” He said, voice quiet. “So we made L’manburg- somewhere outside of the DreamSMP. There were walls- they were  _ safe _ , and they were  _ there _ -” He choked back what was definitely not a sob. 

“Wilbur was our President,” He recounted dully. “And I was  _ vice-president _ . And Dream was alright with us for a while, but-” He shifted, almost curling in on himself. Drista pretended not to notice, eyes still trained on Wilbur.

“There was the embassy, and it was- it took up so many resources, and there were too many taxes, we couldn’t afford it, and-” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “So we declared war.” He tucked his knees up to rest his chin on them, eyes watery, and closed his eyes. “It- it didn’t go well.”

“You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.” He glanced up at her voice, but she was still staring at Wilbur, as if she hadn’t said anything.

He tried to subtly wipe his face. “No, it’s- it’s fine.” He cleared his throat for a moment and then went on . “But anyways, there was a bunch of stuff, and- Schlatt, he was the guy with horns, he’s the new  _ leader _ of Manberg,” He spoke the word ‘leader’ with bitterness. “And- Wilbur, he thought that- that if we couldn’t have Manberg, nobody could.” He shrugged, feigning nonchalance, and leaned against the wall.

“That-” Drista paused, considering her words. “That fucking sucks, dude.”

Tommy let out a teary laugh. “Yeah,” He agreed, swallowing a lump in his throat and wiping his eyes. “Yeah, it really does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now that i've fooled you into reading my sad chapter have a happy idea: 
> 
> one of those mob-hybrid fics but drista and her brother are both moobloom hybrids. 
> 
> do i have any reasoning for this? no. is it still living rent free in my head? absolutely. and now it'll live rent free in your head too. ur welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> *nervous american laughter* so that election huh


End file.
